
Date of issue: 10.10.2002
Song language: English
The Gift |
A poor orphan girl named Maria |
Was walking to market one day |
She stopped for to rest by the road side |
Where a bird with a broken wing lay |
A few moments passed 'til she saw it |
For its feathers were covered with sand |
And soon—clean and wrapped—it was traveling |
In the warmth of Maria’s small hand |
She happily gave her last peso |
On a cage made of rushes and twine |
She fed it loose corn from the market |
And watched it grow stronger with time |
Now the gift-giving service was coming |
And the church shone with tinsel and light |
And all of the town folk brought presents |
To lay by the manger that night |
There were diamonds, incense and perfumes |
In packages fit for a king |
But for one ragged bird in a small cage |
Maria had nothing to bring |
She waited 'til just before midnight |
So no one would see her go in |
And crying she knelt by the manger |
For her gift was unworthy of Him |
Then a voice spoke to her through the darkness, |
«Maria, what brings you to Me? |
If the bird in the cage is your offering, |
Open the door, let Me see.» |
Though she trembled, she did as He asked her |
And out of the cage the bird flew |
Soaring up into the rafters |
On a wing that had healed good as new |
And just then the midnight bells rang out |
And the little bird started to sing |
A song that no words could recapture |
For its beauty was fit for a king |
Now Maria felt blessed just to listen |
To the cascade of notes sweet and long |
As her offering was lifted to Heaven |
By the very first nightingale’s song |